‘You have been summoned to answer for your crimes.’__Régan folded her hands before her. ‘I hear no complaint from the victim?’__Matac’s face twitched. ‘That is disgusting.’__‘He may yet live for all we know.’

‘Let us assume from the arrow plugged in his chest that he has passed, and that you are accountable for that, shall we?’__Régan narrowed her brow, eyes fixed on the rugs.__‘Your tempestuous nature has no place in politics. Will you strike down any who break your trust? All opponents of your opinion? Taxpayers who fail to pay? You have no restraint and act solely in your own interests. If you are to inherit my title, you will learn discipline and humility.’__‘“If I am to inherit your title”,’ Régan echoed with disdain.__‘My cousin’s son Seoras is next in line.’__And at last Régan felt armourless.__‘You will serve five months at Delamore Prison. You will personally compose an apology for both Brennan’s family and Custodia Galluel. And you will return deferential, full of respect for the institution you may one day captain.’__Régan met her father’s eye. Her chest expanded and contracted quickly.__‘Or you will be disinherited.’__Régan let her hands fall by her side. ‘I understand that my actions undermined the judgement you made on the matter of a foreigner’s treason.’__High Counsellor Maik erupted: ‘You understand that you took the life of a breathing person, do you not? One not yours to take? One we all know you valued quite highly until very recently?’__All save Alsandul scrutinised her reaction.__Régan cursed the corner of her mouth for its spasm, taking a moment to respond with poise. ‘I understand my sentence has been passed, Lord Maik, by the single person fit to pass it.’__Enjoy your time in the sun, old friend. Who knows how long he bides.

*

Sevína found Vilsonius in the solar the following morning. His posture was answer to the question she came to ask.__‘Most men would be buoyant,’ she remarked.__Vilsonius glowered.__‘So you know the fate that many noblewomen—women,’ she corrected herself, ‘have endured; it is right to rage.’__He made to place his feet on the footrest but instead upturned it sharply with his heel.__Sevína paced over and righted the little stool. ”Màtac is heartless, and his daughter after him. The adherents are angered.’ Her own voice revealed black hatred. ‘Go to war.’__‘Yes,’ he growled. ‘The fires scorch us; Miggest tires of peace.’
Both were drawn into their own thoughts for a time.__Sevína’s mind turned to Vilsonius’ search for the Interpreter, and she asked after it; but Vilsonius had made little progress in his quest, gaining only vague information in his visit to Yardford. There were other leads, though he would be unable to follow them without her help—Galluel kept a watchful eye on his movements. And true to his words the Custodia’s distinctive stride could be heard approaching.__Sevína promised to assist him, then swiftly departed in the opposite direction.

A subtle knock came to Vilsonius’ chamber door. Setting aside the worn scrolls at his desk, he walked heavily to the door.__‘Your Majesty.’__‘Have I not woken you?’ Lady Galluel saw his desk-lamp was lit. ‘It is very late.’__‘Yes,’ he agreed.__Silence.

‘Sleep eludes me. The heat won’t fade—and Màtac’s daughter—what kind of man spawns such a monster? If she is to succeed him, there is no trusting an ally of that nature.’__Vilsonius stepped aside. ‘Please, unburden yourself of your troubles.’__Galluel entered his chambers and broke the curtain of privacy. She settled into the window box and availed herself of her shawl. With her middle finger, she traced the outline of her knee against her deep purple nightdress. ‘I have been perfectly content to keep my own counsel in the sixteen years I have been Custodia.’ She raised an eyebrow in discomfort. ‘Yet I find myself less able to do so having a trusted advisor so close at hand.’__Vilsonius bowed. ‘I am confident I will never replace your inner guide, my Lady.’__‘Yes, not a replacement. A supplement.’ She stood, coming close enough to curl his collar with forefinger and thumb. She assessed his expression. __‘Perhaps I am being too familiar?’__‘My Lady, I would never presume to know your desires, much less initiate such familiarity myself. I am your servant.’__Galluel moved closer still, breathing in the scent of his neck. ‘And if the master bid the servant to change places from time to time—what then?’__Vilsonius swept Galluel’s hair back from her shoulders. ‘The servant would be obliged to obey.’

Mellena woke to the terrible sound of Mitchas’ heart breaking.__‘Dada?’ she spoke feebly, her fingernails denting the soft pine of Kengar’s front door.__Mitchas sobbed at her voice, pressing his palms to his eyes.__Mellena sank to his side. ‘No, no.’ She held her father fast by the shoulder. ‘It can’t be. It’s alright?’

__Yet surely their lives had been cast adrift, for Kengar had brought the devastating news of Brennan’s murder from the capital. Daldria remained lost on her now futile mission; Kengar had presently fled in search of her, at Mitchas’ bidding—’Find her, but express only danger, for she will fight any messenger but myself for Brennan’s fate—!’

Father and daughter held each other fast that fateful morning.

*

The days rose and fell.__In the heart of the capital, a foreign woman marched across Offenure Plás and entrenched herself at the castle gates, seeming to sink further into the sandstone with each repetition of the phrase, ‘I have come for my son.’__Some guards had shown her to the First Hall where she identified herself as Brennan’s mother. The Castle Host himself was summoned, who—mortified—explained that Brennan was incarcerated and subsequently unavailable. Reading his pallor as an awful omen, Daldria commanded: ‘You tell her Highness she needs to come down here and look me in the eye. I will wait.’__Daldria waited until word passed through a maze of channels, somehow finding itself landing in the ear of High Duke Nóe’s Deputy. Nóe was quickly informed, and cleared the path to his niece’s chambers.__‘What would you have me tell her?’__Régan’s remorse had shrivelled during the passing days. Through the glass panels of her bolted door, the Princess spoke: ‘Tell her she mothered a traitor. Arrange to have her and her family exterminated.’__Nóe repeated the order to his Deputy. The faithful warriors of Alendae received their assignment; and escorting Daldria to the dungeons with the implied promise of seeing her son, slew her with merciful efficiency, and set out to do the same of the relatives remaining in Gesula.

Régan paced her chambers, oscillating between straightening the items on her shelves, clawing her hair, flattening her blankets, and hissing cursesat herself and the sky beyond the window glass.

She had not brought the arrow to smite Brennan. Banishment was not a proportionate response to his interest in the faith of his fatherland. Better to have sentenced him to months in the treasury exploring the cost of servicing the temples throughout the region. But when Brennan’s lover had appeared to claim him and revealed his intention to flee, her fury had tightened her shooting arm and the deed was done while the woman’s—that bald, linen-robed woman!—violet smoke still twirled in the air.__Régan, you are the queen of fools. Volatile and witless. Conniving and selfish.__Mátac’s hateful voice reverberated in her mind and to smother it she hurled a vase against the stone wall.__Of all things, it was Mátac’s mouth she hated most. The criticisms, chastisements, ridicule, denigrations, dismissal, and quashing that spewed from it had been over the decades like a deluge of outrage that he had been given an heir who challenged him rather than one who overflowed with idolisation. The arrow was marked to plug the sewer from which his limited perspective expressed its self-interested ideas, but the stranger had thrown her hatred off course.__Her arrow had soared.__Mátac had commanded.__And she had been dragged as a writhing and screeching mess to the chambers where she still remained, where silence thundered and the void tortured.__She had made the easy kill. What cowardice she had shown in felling the fawn over the stag.

Sevína appeared in Delus Palace bearing Brennan’s weight. Vilsonius abandoned the table and attempted to heal Brennan with her, but broken organs are like shattered glass. He faded from the light within a bloody minute.

Galluel heard the commotion and entered the Great Hall, listening as Sevína gave a disordered and hasty account of what she had seen in Offenure: the Princess drawing the bow, the Lenyol Beran together at what seemed to be a trial, the Custodin on his throne, and no notion of what Brennan’s crime had been—although she suspected the scripture she had given him was to blame—__‘He is still bleeding.’ Galluel knelt and rested Brennan’s fallen hand on his chest, both of which were warm. ‘When did this occur?’__Sevína and Vilsonius froze.__Galluel examined their wordless exchange and hardened the silence.__‘The Nevician ring allows weavers to work consciousness and wind together, and—move—’ Sevína felt Vilsonius’ gaze insist on ambiguity— ‘with—speed.’__‘It is difficult, and dangerous for non-weavers. He could not have survived it in such a state.’ Vilsonius rested on the cold marble floor by Sevína. ‘Although you knew he was beyond saving.’__‘I acted to sweep him from danger. He had begged me to bring him here a fortnight ago. I acted too late.’__Galluel spoke: ‘I will require a better explanation in time. It was right to return him to his homeland—’ Galluel lost herself and kissed Sevína’s head in heavy compassion, for the High Priestess was grasping her departed friend and weeping freely. ‘Let him be delivered to Miggest.’

*

Night reclaimed the land.__Sevína presided over Brennan’s cremation in the burning yard of Delus Temple. Vilsonius accompanied her, and a handful of adherents aided in fuelling the pyre.__‘Cross and enter in peace,’ Sevína requested of the night which fought the flames. Her words were echoed by those present.__She stood in the warm evening as the stars drifted above. Someone offered a stool and shawl when only embers remained; and she sat, staring at the diminishing pyre, with the quiet turning of cogs ticking beneath a stillness of conscious thought..

Custodin Màtac had ordered the Beran to convene. Brennan awaited his conviction in the dungeons, their sunless confines and silent guards offering little information on the progress of his trial. Countless times he had implored Sevína to come—grasping his amethyst anklet interwoven with a plait of her hair—but his summons had gone unanswered.

Above, where three days had passed, the Beran debated Brennan’s fate. High Weaver Quinlan had called on Kengar the night of Brennan’s arrest and took his praise of Brennan’s family and character to the discussions; Kengar himself had departed immediately to alert Daldria and Mitchas of their son’s situation. High Duke Nóe had arrived via the rivers that morning, and Faolan overland from Polar; thus was their party complete, and Màtac’s sentence close at hand. Régan prowled in the wings.
‘The penalty for High Treason is execution.’ Alsandul’s soft voice brought quiet to the table. ‘Yet executing a Miggestian migrant will have consequences in our agreement with Custodia Galluel.’__‘Hear, hear!’ Quinlan thumped the table. High Counsellor Maik and High Commander Boadicae nodded.__Disgruntled noises issued from Nóe and Faolan. Hailen, second of the High Weavers, remained impassive.__Màtac considered. He eyed Régan. ‘Leave us.’__The Princess stood and stalked toward the doors, slapping a fear-struck guard in his fumbling and tore the door open herself. Quiet cursing frothed in her wake.__The door fell closed; the Custodin reopened his eyes; and to the Beran he spoke: ‘The fires will not scorch our vision of a renewed city, nor the misdeeds of servants undermine. Let him be kept here under key, and given to Lady Galluel in March. Guards! Collect him so he might learn that the Golden Throne knows mercy; and let him fear the iron fist of the Miggestian Custodia.’

*

Kengar had flown on hoof with Mellena, returning through the darkness to Gesula and informing—between Mellena’s distressed interjections—Daldria and Mitchas of Brennan’s incarceration. Daldria had departed immediately, in the heart of night and with little provisions, to find her son’s side. Kengar had beseeched her to remain, or at least wait for the clarity of morning, but when she bit his hand as he grasped her arm he bowed to the resolve of maternal ferocity.__With darkness still cloaking the town, Kengar led Mitchas and Mellena to his own home for concealment. There they would remain while Kengar returned to the capital—excluded from the trial, but given hallway reports by Quinlan, then faithfully relayed to a most anxious sister and father a hundred and fifty miles away.

*

High Priestess Sevína’s consecration was complete, and she began her duties in earnest; but the burning at her ankle drained her attention, and however many yards she traversed of the Palace halls, Vilsonius and his ring were far beyond her reach.

*

Brennan stood alone before the Throne. The Custodin and Beran pressed upon him in its impressive entirety. Régan—hawk in eye and countenance—observed from stage left, perched on the edge of the dais. Kengar had been admitted also and watched from his place by the door.__‘You are charged with High Treason for possessing the Charge of Darkness and bringing the written word of the Black Dragon into Lenyol’s domain—of which I am custodian—and into the castle itself. Your post as First Assistant to my heir does nothing to lessen the brevity of this charge.’__Brennan quivered.__‘The punishment for High Treason is execution. However, as you are not born of this region, your life is perhaps not mine to take; thus will you be handed to Custodia Galluel in autumn, and be submitted to her will for judgement.’__Brennan sank to his knees. ‘Thank you.’ He clenched his ankle. ‘Your Majesty, my Lord, you are merciful.’__Màtac nodded with pride. A draft then swept his hair, burgeoning into a breeze; and wisps of purple smoke spiralled, giving way to a shorn-headed woman in black robes. She assessed the scene—the throne, nobles flanking it, Brennan’s kneeling before them—and cried out, ‘Brennan, my love, you should have fled when you could!’—and took his hands, lifting him.__And there Régan growled: ‘You philandering fool, was a Princess not enough?’ She drew her bow and arrows from beneath her skirts and released her scorn, piercing Brennan in the heart under Sevína’s scream and within the disintegrating violet haze which consumed and removed them from Offenure Castle.

]]>https://terradraco.com/2017/07/26/chapter-eleven-tempest-%c2%a71/feed/14144352737_25da5178d7_bfhallbowdenTerra Draco The West new gesulaChapter Ten Downloadhttps://terradraco.com/2017/07/19/chapter-ten-download/
https://terradraco.com/2017/07/19/chapter-ten-download/#respondWed, 19 Jul 2017 10:57:06 +0000http://terradraco.com/?p=1825Chapter Ten is now complete, and ready for download in large (SmartPhone) and small (Desktop) text.

Coils of wind broke from the centre of Alendae Palace’s Great Hall, and a pale purple haze swelled in its centre. There Kengar appeared.__‘The Lord of Alendae summoned me with regards my niece,’ he stated to one of the guards.__The guard stammered some response and exited, leaving his colleagues to their stunned silence. Kesia was deeply relieved by the sight of her uncle, and temporarily dismissed the manner of his arrival.

*

At the High Table, Kengar spoke with the High Duke and the weaver Breckin at length. Kesia sat across the hall inside a set of castle guards.__Her arrest had been swift, though peaceful, and she had spent the night in the Great Hall. There she had feebly explained herself to Breckin, a member of the guard and an acquaintance of her uncle’s. A messenger had been dispatched, and after a circular conversation there was nothing to be done but rest and await Kengar.__‘We cannot allow young weavers given to delusions to roam the city!’ Lord Nóe suddenly cried out, thumping the table.__‘My Lord.’ Kengar bowed slightly, firm of voice. ‘Perhaps we should speak privately.’__The High Duke obeyed Kengar’s serious tone and led him to a chamber behind a curtain.__Not five minutes passed. Nóe stepped beyond the curtain. Kengar followed suit.__‘Release her,’ Lord Nóe commanded.__The guards immediately abandoned Kesia’s side.__‘You may go with your uncle, Kesia.’__Kesia startled at the High Duke’s use of her name. He examined her briefly, seeking and perhaps failing to find—then quit the room.__‘It is always good to see you, Kengar.’ Bricken shook Kengar’s hand. __‘Until next time.’__‘Yes, Bricken. Thank you.’__Kengar crossed the hall and embraced Kesia. ‘Come, Kesia. Let’s away.’

*

Afternoon came. Kengar and Toran loaded the cart, leaving Mellena and Orla to keep Kesia company and distract her—’What if I had killed someone?’; ‘Is this the beginning of madness?’—with the beautiful Léim.__They departed the city soon thereafter, aiming to reach The Crossroads before nightfall. This they did, gladdened by the Wanderer’s music. Dinner was had as the sun began to slide away, and Kengar excused himself and Kesia from the group. ‘Let us take a walk.’__They left the camp to wander the fields. Far off to the south-west the tail of the Barlon Ranges pierced Intiae Forest. The sun descended behind them to form a sharp silhouette.__‘Otàmil was given to visions,’ Kengar opened. ‘Very rarely.’__‘Did they come to light?’__‘He would not relate them to me. Once, in—I suppose it doesn’t matter where— he attacked an—a kind of colleague. Quite brutally. What he had seen I never knew, but he was fierce, and regretted it terribly, for the—man—was badly scarred.’__‘I ruined the goods of the market-sellers. I might have made amends, but I fled like an assailant.’__‘The Duke will see it is righted.’__‘What did you say to induce him to free me?’__Kengar stalled. ‘Well, just—he knew your father. Otàmil was well known in the court.’__‘Oh.’ Kesia turned away, and frowned at the mountains. Otàmil was a stranger to her. ‘Alright.’__She walked away, wanting time and space.__She had no desire to return to the city after the incident. Perhaps the time had come for her to finally complete her weaving apprenticeship and set out as Mellena intended. She stared at the mountains, captivated by the scope related in their distance.__Then a bird took flight from one of the peaks, followed by its mate. She awed at the power of her own vision—before doubting it, for the ranges were forty miles off.__‘Can you see them?’ Kengar whispered, grasping her around the shoulders.__Brennan’s words echoed across time: How could I make out an eagle at such a distance?__Kesia gasped.

Régan was escorted on foot from the docks through a maze of alleys, tunnels, and corridors. Carriages and horses were in short supply, for the Custodin was dispatching his resources north to evacuate the people and granary stores ahead of the blaze. The vicious wind had carried the smoke even to the city, and the warriors amassing in Offenure Plás wore coverings over their mouths.

When the Princess arrived in the castle, she was briefly acknowledged by her father before being passed over for Lord Carrick, whom Màtac deemed more useful in such a crisis. High Priest Alsandul noticed Régan’s indignation and quickly found her side.__‘Let it pass,’ he murmured, placing a hand on her shoulder and walking her toward the Great Hall’s magnificent windows. ‘He has cut down the High Commander this morning, and banished your mother to her rooms. Be wise and observe carefully his faults. Consider what your own movements would be—and bide, Your Highness.’ On the last he squeezed her arm with gentle force to ensure his words were marked.__Régan conceded. She noted the Custodin’s emphasis on preserving the grain, and the unspoken outrage this germinated in those present; in his short temper, and how this tightened the lips of those best suited to give advice; and how the urgency of the situation was given inadequate focus, diminished by the ignorant with louder voices.__Employing her residual seasickness to keep quiet her tongue, Régan quit the hall after several hours of such observations, taking solace in Alsandul’s praise—expressed in a small rub of her back. The sun had now fallen and rest would best prepare her for the following day.

*

Yet no rest could have girded her against what would unfold.__The day burst into being with marching footsteps, a series of thumps against her chamber door, and Alsandul letting himself into her rooms without awaiting invitation.__‘Rise, Your Majesty!’ He stormed toward her shutters, splitting them to admit the piercing dawn. ‘Brennan has been seized.’ He collected a cloak from a stand as he came to her bed, checked discreetly that she was garmented, and passed it to her as he drew back the covers. ‘He is being taken to the Great Hall, and may be there now—a maid discovered him this morning with the Charge of Darkness, on the Northern Tower. He will be charged with High Treason.’__Régan uncoiled from her pillows, drew the cloak over her bedclothes, and tamed her mane of hair into a brass clasp. ‘What was he doing on the Northern Tower?’ She made for the hall, Alsandul at her arm, ‘And which maid discovered him?’__This was not the expected response. ‘Régan, he was found reading the Charge of Darkness.’__She did not stop as he did, answering with: ‘Isn’t that a private matter?’__When she saw he had halted, she also paused.__‘No. It is not.’__She met the High Priest’s eye momentarily, then continued on. ‘I don’t care if he was reading my father’s own journal. I would like to know which maid discovered him, and why she was also on the Northern Tower.’